The Highest Honor
by Lewd Concubine
Summary: Triumph over adversity. An abstract one-shot. Don't let the OCs fool you. There are no self-inserts here. Everything is for a reason. To say any more would ruin the surprise.


The Highest Honor.

That's what they call it. I've heard the phrase all my life. My older sisters and brothers didn't get picked, but maybe Honored Ancestor will choose me, they say. I'm their last chance for greatness and we all know it.

Families with chosen children get to live in the big compound. The rest of us are scattered around it in a circle. The main compound has to be protected. That's where he lives: our Honored Ancestor, our protector. I've never seen him, but they say he comes out once in a while. Always in disguise. No one is allowed to see his face. It's weird. But whenever a strong enemy comes to attack, he's always there to defend us. He's dependable like that.

I don't really get it or him. All I know is I have to train. I have to be stronger, faster, smarter than all the rest. It'd also help if I was beautiful, my parents say. He likes the pretty ones. But no one has been chosen in my lifetime. The last was when my mom was young. She was my age when her best friend was chosen. Mom says her friend's family went away with her, to the main compound. She saw them, but never her friend again.

When I ask mom about it, she tears up. It's been almost twenty years, but this is something that'll never go away. She looks proud too, though. Like she was witness to something great. I wonder if that's why she wants me to be picked, so she can have that feeling again. Maybe it's more about that than living in luxury in the main compound. Or maybe mom thinks she'll see her friend again if Honored Ancestor picks me.

I'm doubtful about that. It's unheard of for those chosen for the honor to be seen again. I'm not too sure what happens to them. No one is. All we know is that it's an honor. The chosen fulfill some role laid down in laws so ancient that even my grandmother doesn't remember life without them. She's pretty old.

.

Today when I get up my mom is waiting at the door. She kisses me and tells me to do my best. I'm off to preparation school soon, but today is special. It's my fifteenth birthday, the day we find out if I'm needed, chosen. I slip past her with a smile, trying to hide how sweaty my hair and clothes are. I tell her I need a shower. She tells me to make sure to come for breakfast when I'm done.

It's quick, but then I can't be late for breakfast. For preparation. Mom used top quality stuff but it hardly matters. I know the rice is cooked well, but it tastes like sandpaper on my tongue. I drink my tea, the house specialty, and it burns down my throat. Then I smile and tell them it's wonderful.

Preparation is the same as everyday. Mrs. Asura yells. We do our lessons, we practice. I can't pay attention though. I don't see them, but I feel eyes on me.

After preparation my parents are waiting for me. Both of them. That's rare since dad's usually away defending us. They look so happy. At first I think it's because it's my birthday, but then mom comes out with it.

"Wonderful news! Honored Ancestor has sent his proxy. You're being considered," she says, her tone brimming with pride.

I smile, but I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. My legs are a little shaky as I walk into her embrace, returning it with no thought but that this might be the very last time. I want to ask her so many things. What happens to the chosen ones? Will I at least be able to say goodbye to my brothers and sisters? Instead, I keep hugging her. Dad's warm hand lands on my shoulder and a single tear slips down my pale cheek. There's a funny squint to dad's eyes as he tells me everything is going to be okay.

The proxy, Mr. Shishua, smiles and laughs. He eats my mom's food and exchanges friendly banter with my dad. But I'm afraid. They don't seem to notice, but his eyes are cold. Well, colder than any I've seen. Still, I sit up straight and manage to eat something as my parents inform him of my high scores at school, at my proficiency with techniques, and about how my Sharingan has three tomoe already. My mom beams as she tells him about the three S-Rank objectives I successfully undertook. I want to tell her not to make me look too good. But it likely doesn't matter. Mr. Shishua, with his premature gray and deadly gaze, probably knows it all already.

.

It's been three days since I was taken. Mr. Shishua, all smiles still, came back the night after the dinner to pick me up. I said goodbye to my parents, wondering, again, if this would be for the last time. I've been told that the families get to come too, but that doesn't mean much to me after seeing the inside of the main compound. There is something here, something unspeakable. It's the same something that was staring at me that day in school. I can _always_ feel it now, staring, considering, even when I'm alone. I wonder why Honored Ancestor is letting that happen to me since he thinks I might be worthy. Shouldn't I be protected from that, whatever it is?

Or maybe it's just my imagination. Very likely considering that this place is so gloomy inside. I mean, sure, the first few rooms are normal, but once you get deeper into the huge compound everything changes. It could be because it's all so old looking. Antique furniture everywhere and things I don't even recognize, some I've only seen in textbooks. Ancient things. Honored Ancestor must be older than I thought.

The only thing that keeps me from hiding and never coming out is the fact I wasn't the only one brought here. There are two others being considered. Unlike me, they are all smiles and gratitude. I wonder if I'm a freak. They don't seem to feel the eyes at all. I figure they wouldn't be as happy if they did.

.

A week goes by. We're made to display our techniques, tested on our speed, things like that. At night, we're called out of bed to strange rooms where medical specialists stick tubes in our arms and drape seals over our faces. All part of the routine, they say. I think of my mom's friend. Did he have to go through all this?

Mr. Shishua meets with us sometimes. He catches us at dinner or during our workouts. The presence of those eyes on my back, itching down my spine, doesn't bother me like it used to. I wish I could say the same of Mr. Shishua's gaze. The others seem to love the attention. I shudder when he looks at me.

One day he takes me aside and has me lay down. He runs his hands over and above my body and makes a few noises in his throat. I am still, quiet. The technique is familiar and I wonder if he, too, is a medical specialist.

Mr. Shishua's energy is green. It's the only thing about him that's welcoming, in my eyes. I stiffen as he probes my limbs with his energy. I can feel it crackling along my spine and into my brain. My vision dims. Then everything becomes so bright I almost can't bear it. Yet I keep fighting to keep them open and to remain still. It feels like a test and I'm not sure what'll happen if I fail.

When Mr. Shishua circles my heart with his fingers, a sharp and unfamiliar agony starts in my chest. It gets so bad that I pass out, or think I do. I can't see or hear, but I can feel him probing me. There's no real sense of time, but when it goes away, when I can finally think past the pain, Mr. Shishua is standing. For once, his gaze isn't cold.

It's almost scarier that way. I decide then and there that I hate him.

Up, he tells me.

I stand without a word. He's looking just like the first time I saw him at dinner. That feels like so long ago. I wonder if I will ever see my mom and dad again.

I'm so busy with my thoughts that I almost miss what Mr. Shishua says next. He tells me to purify myself, to make ready, and all the blood drains from my face. I can feel it. Every ounce of it is in my toes now. I don't think it'll ever come back. I open my mouth to ask when though I'm not sure if I'll ask about it being official or saying goodbye to my family.

Before I can get the words out, Mr. Shishua puts a hand on my shoulder and tells me soon.

And it is all too soon. I've been alone in this stark place for a week now but it feels like minutes since I was chosen. Each one is as painful as the last. My heart thuds in my chest to a constant, fast beat even as I am pampered and massaged. It would be much better if the others were here. At least then I wouldn't have to face this by myself. The servants don't talk or smile or even look me in the eye. They treat me with deference, like I'm fragile or precious. I hate it. I want to tell them how strong I am now that it doesn't matter if Honored Ancestor knows it anymore.

I'm it, aren't I? I don't know why, but there must be a reason. I wonder if mom and dad are proud or if they even know yet. I wonder if I'll get to meet Honored Ancestor. The thought chills me through the warm water I'm floating in. I submerge my head to banish it.

Only a few days more and it comes true. There is a table laid out with food, everything I like, in front of me. Beyond that, a dark curtain hides Honored Ancestor but I can feel his eyes on me. It's the same feeling I've been having ever since this started. I realize now that he has always been watching me. Watching and waiting.

When Honored Ancestor asks me what I want, I know he isn't talking about the food. I also don't know how to respond. Mr. Shishua told me what to expect, but that raspy, lilting voice has stolen all his advice from me.

The silence draws on and I begin to shake. I see a shadow behind that dark curtain and it doesn't look human. His energy doesn't feel human either. I now understand why a white ouroboros snake decorates the fan, our family's crest. His crest.

It takes all my nerve, but I'm finally able to speak. I tell him that I want my family to be safe and prosperous. Really, what else can I say? I now know our clan's secret. I can't be left alone or alive and I know I won't.

Everything ends tomorrow, with him. But at least now, with his affirmation, I can close my eyes and smile. It's bittersweet, like my mother's own.

.

I wrote this to correct a few logic failures I saw in Naruto. I won't condescend with explanations, but simply leave you with this thought: if you are eternal and hell bent on learning all the techniques, why would you be so excited to have the Sharingan for _only three years_? If good always triumphing over evil wasn't par for the course in every shounen ever, I believe something like this may have been inevitable.


End file.
